Thursday, August 7, 2014

First Shot (34)

Newt
Gunther's apparent friendliness struck a discord with Salzwedel
almost immediately. The principal had been aloof despite their
reenactment interest. Not much different from his attitude toward all
of the teachers, except the attractive females.

“He
was so obvious at school and at school functions it was a common
joke,” Salzwedel told Blow in the library room next to Blow's home
office. “And at reenactment activities? Where you would think we
could at least pretend we were on equal ground? No way. With Newt it
was as if we really were in the military, with him as an officer and
me a lowly private.

“Until
this one day during a break at Leigh's. He sort of sidled over to me
and put his hand on my shoulder. I thought at first it might be
someone else. But, no, it was Newt. Big grin on his face and a How ya
doin, Andy. Phony as hell. Soon as we got past the small talk, which
was quick, he asked me if I knew one of my students had a crush on
me. That's when the alarm bells really went off. I had no idea what
he meant, but I felt the danger. Circled the wagons, so to speak.”

In a quiet, almost
cautious voice, looking up now and then to gauge Blow's reaction,
Salzwedel began a narrative that dovetailed in certain key parts with
the sketch Jamie Moriarty had given Blow from her perspective earlier
in the day. Newt Gunther, after startling Salzwedel with the
suggestion of an improper relationship between the teacher and a
student—ironic, had this been the case, in light of Gunther's own
whispered reputation—related something even more bizarre, if less
troubling in its implications.

The “crush”
turned out to be the mere mention of Salzwedel's name in an online
discussion forum comment in which the teacher was described as
“cool”. No indication of gender, and the sense it came from a
student was only from context. With this Salzwedel's initial wariness
relaxed somewhat, not because he had reason to worry but of the
ever-present danger of rumors springing up for any reason at any
time. He was meticulous, he emphasized, in keeping a personal
distance from his students, both in school and out. He knew of
teachers whose reputations and careers were destroyed by nothing more
than the appearance of impropriety. A hug, a hand too long on a
shoulder, quiet chat alone in a classroom. That's all it need be.

More heartbreaking
were the instances of deliberate malice by a student or parent to
punish a teacher with contrived allegations over anything ranging
from a bad grade to a bad joke.

“But
this was something new, Joe, although it did involve something
someone posted on the Internet. I'm afraid I'm not very computer
literate, at least not compared with some if not most of my students.
I knew nothing about online discussion forums, had never seen one.
This one, the one Gunther told me about, is called Flintlocks dot
com. He showed me some printouts of one of the discussions. Someone
calling himself Scrapper is who mentioned my name.

“This
Scrapper claims he has a musket that belonged to his
great-great-grandfather. Long story short, Scrapper says he also has
proof his great-great-grandfather, with this musket, fired the first
shot at Lexington on April 19, 1775, the shot Ralph Waldo Emerson
called in his poem sixty-one years later the shot heard 'round the
world. The official record says a British officer fired that shot.
Scrapper says his ancestor beat the officer to it, firing from just
outside Buckman Tavern next to where the militia was gathered on the
village green.

“This
would be an incredibly significant development if it's true. I told
Gunther it was likely a hoax, a practical joke. He said he didn't
think so. He said someone from Massachusetts who had seen Scrapper's
comments contacted him very interested in meeting whoever has this
musket. Gunther said he asked the fellow—he didn't say who it
was—what made him think it was a student. That's when my name came
up. Apparently this guy knew quite a lot about the Battle of
Lexington, and he confirmed the name this Scrapper said was his
great-great-grandfather's was the same as a man who within days after
the battle made the same claim in an official deposition Scrapper
describes in the forum.

“The
deposition was omitted from the official report. The guy from
Massachusetts told Gunther several such accounts were omitted because
the witnesses were unreliable. What stood out for me in this last is
that apparently the guy stated it as a fact, whereas most people, I
should think, would be more cautious. They'd say the witnesses were
believed to be
unreliable. Gunther said he also noticed this man's certainty, that
it was as if he were one of the officials who prepared the report
back then.

“I
was about to bring up the hoax thing again, that someone, maybe a
student, had managed to get hold of some old documents or found a
reference to them online or in a book. But before I said anything,
Gunther told me he raised the same possibility with the Massachusetts
man, who, by the way, Gunther said eventually came to Leicester
County and met him at the high school. This is when the guy showed
him some photographs he said he had printed out from the online
forum. I later found the same photographs in the forum, and copied
them to my hard drive. That's why I brought my laptop along.

“I'll
show them to you, Joe, but first I'll tell you that one is a color
photograph of a musket with the identical markings on it that are
described in the official records from 1775. There are two other
photographs, each of which look to be very old paper, spotted and
streaked with brown, the kind that comes with age. There was
handwriting on them. One has an elaborate signature at the bottom,
beautiful as calligraphy. The name is Willie Isaac Hosner. I've since
found records that show there was a man by that name, spelled the
same way exactly, at Lexington on April 19, 1775.”

“What
if it's true?” Blow said this with the kind of edgy wistfulness of
a child testing his faith in Santa Claus amid mounting evidence to
the contrary. He'd studied the photos on Salzwedel's laptop, his mind
marveling at either of the opposing prospects: Scrapper's story was
innocent and true or it was a clever hoax.

Salzwedel compressed
his lips and drew them in between his teeth as he pondered Blow's
question.

Blow prompted with
an addendum to his question: “I mean, if it's true, that stuff must
be worth a fortune, the musket and the papers.”

“Priceless,
I would say. Just their value as antiques would have Sotheby's
drooling. But as history? What it would do to our perception of
righteousness at the official commencement of this country's struggle
for independence? Yikes. Think of all the textbooks that would have
to be rewritten.” Salzwedel allowed a slow grin to take over his
face.

Blow, lips parted,
stared at his client as if entranced.

“And
if it's a hoax,” Salzwedel continued, “as my grandpa Milo would
have said, that'd be a whole 'nother kettle of fish. I expect the
tabloid TV shows would have a field day with that.”